Ang at Sweltering Celt has given us the theme for our Microfantasy Monday posts this week — Cleaning. The following is something I wrote for my sweet love Roxy, a few weeks ago. We agreed to share it with you all, since it fits so nicely within this week’s theme, even if it’s a little longish.
You’ve told me to make preparations for your shower. I quickly strip and go into the bathroom, pulling out a fresh towel for you. I start the water and wait until it’s at the temperature you require, then start the shower. I step into the bedroom where you are at your computer screen and say, “Your shower is ready, ma’am.”
You give me a cynical look, and I know you’re telling me that you’ll determine if it’s ready or not and you’ll decide when. You wave your hand at me, indicating I’m to wait for you in the bathroom. I stand beside the shower, shivering slightly, head bowed, hands clasped behind my head. You like to make me wait, like to push my capacity for patience.
When you join me, you are breathtakingly nude and I shiver again for different reasons. My eyes take you in and I fight to keep the leer off my face. That’s not appropriate right now, I must keep myself under control. There is a time to rebel and a time to give in.. and now is a time to belong to you.
“Knees!” you stand in front of me and with a single word drop me to the floor, my face inches from you. I can smell you and hold back from taking a large, noisy sniff, even though I want to so badly.
You push my hands away and lace your fingers through the short hairs on the back of my head and pull my face forward until my nose is resting against you, I only need to extend my tongue centimeters to taste you. But I don’t, I wait obediently, patiently, for your next instruction. My knees begin to ache as you take your time, brushing out your hair, looking at yourself in the mirror, and, I imagine, looking down at me with my face against your pussy. I subtly shift my weight, trying to take some pressure off my now screaming knee joints. Your hand is on my head again, this time stroking my hair, petting me, then tugging a little, now cupping the base of my skull.
“Lick me, boy. I want you to clean me before I shower” your hand presses me against you and I shudder happily. I start with a flat-tongue, leaning down so I can lick you from your hole to your clit in long strokes. I bath you up and down, side to side, your fingers gripping my hair again and your breath coming in gasps. A low moan escapes your lips and you hold my face against your pussy and thrust against me, using my face to bring yourself to climax. I do what I can to breathe, and hold my position. This is not a time for me to be creative, I am here to be used and ecstatic that you find me worthy to the task.
You gasp and shudder and cry out, your knees weakening. Without being asked, I wrap my arms around your thighs and use my strength to hold you up. This is the kind of initiative I can and must take. Your hands are on my shoulders, warm, strong, fingers gripping me tightly as you go through an aftershock.
I hear you take a deep breath in and exhale sharply. You are once again standing under your own power and I once again clasp my hands behind my head. You lift my face and look down on me with a mixture of pride, pleasure, lust and happiness. “Very good, boy, very good. Now, time to shower.”
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